The Meaning of War
by The Slytherin Devoid
Summary: Harry struggles to understand the meaning of war, Sirius gives him a helping hand. Slightly AU as Sirius didn't die.


**AN: **Hey all, well i've been posting quite a bit recently not really sure why though probably has something to do with all the free time I have at school. I don't really no where this fic came from either it's just I guess if there was a reason for it it'd be that I guess in the movies Harry always tends to think everyone dies for him and that everything that happens in the war is because of him or for himso I dunno I just thought there should be another reason because to me Harry's not that self centered. Anyways I just wanna apoligize in advance for the abuse of commas here my bad. Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review. peace, love and happiness. :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP despite how much I wished I did.**

**The Meaning of War**

A wandering chill besought those inhabiting Grimmauld Place that night. A young boy, whose eyes betrayed his age, tossed and turned futility fighting the cold. Despite the number of blankets that buried his body. Not too far away in a room much similar to that of the boy's, a man damaged from years of unnecessary imprisonment too struggled to find solace in sleep.

Eventually the man knowing no sleep would come that night, languidly pulled himself out of bed and struggled down the stairs in an insomniac state. Entering the basement kitchen he hoped a slight firewhiskey might sooth his soul. It seemed the young boy had the same idea. The man turned his tired face towards the intrusion created by the boy. Grey met green in an understanding gaze.

Slowly but surely they both took a seat at the overly large table in front of them. The man poured a firewhiskey for them both and they sat there admiring the silence, watching as the glasses became more and more empty after each sip.

"How are you Harry" the man's hoarse voice rang out.

"Tired Sirius, so very tired" the boy 'Harry' answered in a strained whisper.

"Of what"

"The world, Death Eaters, death itself, prophecies, _Him_ I could go on all night."

"We can't give up the fight, Harry"

"I know that, I do really, but sometimes… sometimes I've just had enough. Enough of seeing people die, my friends die all for my sake."

"Harry, I think you lack, understanding"

'_Understanding… understanding of what, this whole war rides on my shoulders'._

"Harry it's only one curse you cast that will finish it"

"That may be, but I'm still the one who must cast it and I'm sick of people dying for me."

"Harry they don't die for _you, _they die because they believe in what they fight for. They believe in the light, they believe in living in a world without Voldemort's reign, they fight for the future generations to be able to live without terror to be able to live and never have to fear for their lives. This war we fight is bigger than you and bigger than me, hell it's bigger than everyone. This war is the difference between freedom and enslavery, they don't fight for you and they don't die for you, they die for what they believe in. They die in the hope that someday Voldemort will be vanquished by somebody's hand and if their death somehow helped with that effort then they'll die knowing that they did all they could for this battle and they'll be happy with that alone. This battle isn't about you, even though you're a vital part I won't deny, but this war is bigger than any of us and don't you forget it. You may have to cast the final curse but there will always be those willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good."

"I never thought of it like that" he whispered voice still strained but with an added softness.

"I know you didn't"

"Do you think I'll finally be able to sleep now?"

"Maybe Harry, maybe"

With that they both drained their glasses that Sirius had refilled during his speech, savouring the burn that ran down both their throats.

"Goodnight Harry, sleep well" Sirius murmured as he slipped out of the kitchen.

"Night Sirius" He said to his godfather's disappearing figure.

A great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, this battle wasn't about him nor was it about Voldemort it was about humanity and survival. With this new knowledge he had obtained, he knew that he would defeat Voldemort or he would die trying, for this war meant more than anything. If he did die it would be for his family and friends and he would be okay with that because he would've died for a greater cause. In his mind there really was no better alternative. At least his death would mean something of that he was certain.

Finally that wandering chill had been replaced with a warm reassurance that allowed the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place to be lulled in to a warm comfortable slumber. The boy smiled in his sleep knowing when the time came he would be ready, they all would be and Voldemort had better watch out.

**AN**: Hey hoped you all enjoyed, LOL for listening to 'Voldemorts going down' from AVPM, how very fitting. I know I referred to Harry as a young boy in this but I didnt really want to change it, this is set somewhere after OOTP so kinda AU since Sirius is still alive but in my head he didn't die anyway that is irrelevant but what isn't is your reviews, so please do. Love and cookies.

**Messer Moony. **


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